


Deserving

by SisterOfSeven



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: BDSM, Dominant Masochism, F/F, Femslash, Humiliation, Master/Servant, Masturbation, Public Humiliation, Slash, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12494600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterOfSeven/pseuds/SisterOfSeven
Summary: Janeway feels she doesn't deserve Seven's attentive stress-relief. The Borg is willing to make herself undeserving, if it'll let Janeway know what her saviour means to her.(Caution, gentle folk who enter: this fic contains themes of BDSM and humiliation)





	Deserving

Captain Janeway saw her face pale in reflection against the stars. On lookout, off duty. Watching for a darkness that would only be visible long after it was too late, and they’d be forced to slaughter more Borg.

They’d been active again, close. The distress transmission had led them to a world of vines to get tangled in, where people made nests they’d never get out of, happily trapped. There had been families there, in the ones they had rescued and the ones assimilated. The vines punctured skin and grew subcutaneous, passing their nourishment on so the nesters would never have need to leave. In return, they would rid their nests of any pests that could cause damage, spat their venom at trespassers. A strange symbiosis, but one that made their lives content. Until the Borg had come, impervious to poison, breaking through the armoured vines and trampling the weaker, letting all bleed.

With every enemy dispatched, Janeway thought of the Borg she had saved. Every night after she’d stand in her office, stand watch over silent stars and wonder why. Searching for any reason, other than the one that sickened her, sent a devouring virus through to the day she graduated from the Academy, the day she was sworn in to captain the Voyager. It was her duty and her honour to be a saviour where she could, even when overstepping cultural boundaries and bending rules. But to cut the one from her Collective, some self-righteous vengeance against the Borg when they broke their alliance with _Voyager_ against Species 8472, and damn all the rest. That was a betrayal she lived with every day Seven of Nine served and survived under her orders.

“Captain, is there any way I can assist you?”

That light step and sudden and strained announcement had become so routine that Janeway only turned and smiled, before looking through her reflection again. “I don’t think so, Seven. I’m just picking over the mission to Fel. As if going into the memory could cut the losses.”

“Would you prefer my company?”

Janeway ran a hand through her hair and clenched a fistful. “I can’t expect that of you.”

“Why? You have asked that of me many times before now.”

In the dark as Janeway turned from the stars, Seven stood in the doorway, hand on the doorframe to hold it open. It was always the close of the door that alerted her to someone being in the room unannounced. At some point, Seven had learned and taken to coming and going as she pleased. There was no telling, some nights, how long she was there before she spoke.

“Well, tonight I’m not.”

Seven took her hand from the door, the movement to bring it by her side measured as any other. One step, and the door closed behind her. The irritation, the selfishness in that furrowed brow were the same as the day they’d met. That self-centred attitude for the sake of the independent being she’d become had only attracted Janeway more as time went on. Made her want to tease it out of her with a limp wave of dismissal. Then she’d feel guilty.

“Why tonight, as opposed to any other?”

Seven didn’t take another step, stood as though at parade rest. That insistence to appear the servant until the captain relinquished control, always made Kathryn ache to be dressed down by her superior. Once, Seven had torn Janeway’s uniform to teach her a lesson in humility. She had stood on the bridge, hair immaculate but with her collar torn, Captain’s pips ripped off, just as Seven had left her. As it turned out, the crew didn’t notice as she took command as though nothing was different. But she knew that Seven knew, and would touch herself as Janeway had been forbidden to. Forced to imagine how her commander and master would stand naked before the stars, press her body against the thin barrier between herself and the cold of space as she fell to orgasm, Janeway had rubbed herself through her uniform any moment she had alone.

“I can’t use you like that any more. It’s unfair to you. Taking advantage of all you’ve done for me.”

“I want you to use me.” Matter of fact, still stood as though receiving orders, a small frown softened the edges of her mouth. “Does that change anything?”

Janeway wasn’t sure, after all the clock-off waiting, after hours and early hours for Seven to bend her over her desk. Some quiet days spent reflecting on missions gone, it was the only thing that kept her steady to feel so unremarkable, so out of control under those hard hands. To feel the sting of a restraining grip with her wrists held tight behind her back and feel like nothing.

Seven took another step closer, another. She knelt in the middle of the floor on hands and knees, her head bowed. “I want you to use me,” she repeated. “If I’ve done something so wrong you would send me away, I must be reprimanded.”

Janeway couldn’t stand the sight of her like that. The guilt, frustration and anger tightened her hand around Seven’s jaw, dragging her upright.

“If you’re going to disturb me in my office, at least stand and face me while you waste my time.”

“Captain…” Seven averted her eyes from Janeway’s, took a sharp breath, almost a gasp. “My work of late has been unsatisfactory. Show me how I can better serve you.”

“Stay there.” Janeway released her grip, saw the white marks fade where her fingers had been, and took the seat behind her desk. “Take that hair down. It’s disgraceful.”

Seven unpinned and uncurled her French twist and her curls fell loose over one shoulder, not quite long enough to disguise her nipples hardening under her uniform, betrayed by shadow.

“What kind of behaviour is this?” Janeway strode over and grabbed Seven’s breast, rubbing a rough thumb over the soft swell and the firm heat pressing back. “You enjoy this? You like it?”

Janeway rubbed harder until Seven’s open mouth released a groan on her heavy breath.

“Unacceptable. The audacity. Clearly being humiliated isn’t punishment enough.”

Grabbing her hair and shoulder, Janeway pulled Seven’s arm behind her back and marched her to the desk. She laid a hand over the back of her neck and pushed down with her whole body until Seven was trapped against the desk, unable to move any part of her body. As the captain ground the bones of her hips and pussy against the taut muscle of the Borg’s prone arse, she drove her fist into her back where she held her arm in place, and let her struggle, just enough. To feel the friction through her uniform, agonisingly close to her ache.

“Am I being clearer now?”

Seven couldn’t have spoken, but she fought Janeway’s grip to nod.

“Good. Now, I’m going to show you. You’ll serve me without moving a muscle. You’ve proved you’re worthless for anything else.”

Janeway slipped the hand from behind Seven’s neck to the front of her uniform, gripping the modest v-neck and dragging the material over skin and shoulder, feeling the light snag against each nipple as Seven flinched and made muffled moans. She kept tugging until the mere slip of material fell around her ankles, leaving her bare and cold against the desk. Her whole body quivered, pale, almost translucent, the blue veins aglow and almost alien in the low light.

Janeway felt a shudder go through her and a yearning to make herself come clothed just as she had done before, imagining those flushed, straining nipples pressed against the harsh grey surface where she took her coffee, worked and felt the stress tighten in her stomach. But she resisted, forcing her hand between Seven’s thighs and finding her wet and open. The Borg cried out as her knees buckled, held up only by the force of Janeway’s body, the fingers coming up to dig into her pubes and rub her slick with a flat, forceful hand. Another cry came as she pulled and scratched at the full lips and the clit they concealed. It was a cry too high and sharp for pleasure. A desperate pain.

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to be gentle with you.”

She pulled back her hand. Another moan.

“At least, not yet. Get up. Sit on the desk. Take that filth out of my sight first.”

Seven did as commanded, and Janeway stood back to take in her body. Despite the harsh hand fuck she’d been given, her nipples were dark red and flared with desire. She shifted on the desk, thighs tight together to hide, but Janeway could see the red scratch marks through her thick, blonde pubic hair. She couldn’t suppress a moan at her work, a satisfied smile.

“Stand up,” she ordered. “Come closer.”

As she stood, the light caught a shine on the desk where she’d been, dripping for more of her captain’s hand. Janeway tutted, pointed to the evidence of her shame.

“Clean that up. Then maybe I’ll consider being softer on you.”

Seven reached out a hand to remove the wetness she’d left, but Janeway caught her hard by the wrist, yanking it behind her back.

“What did I tell you? Clean it. Like the beast you are.”

Seven’s eyes widened in confusion, but in a moment she bent to the desk and licked at the wet patch, as though some animal instinct had taken over. Sticking out her tongue as far as it would reach, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, relishing the scent and taste of herself.

“That will be satisfactory,” Janeway said in her level tone, though she fought to stop herself from falling to her knees and taking Seven’s taste for herself. “As you were. But open your legs.”

even was tentative as she sat back down on the desk, as though this was another trick command. But slowly, slightly, she spread her thighs to show her captain her cunt, full lips shimmering, a timid clit coming through juicy.

Janeway fell on her hard, pushing her back to lie across the desk as she teased her clit to fullness. As the blush came to Seven’s cheeks and blood flowered in her breasts, she slowed even more. Hips bucked against her own, begging for a faster touch.

“Promise me,” Janeway said, “you will always live to serve me.”

“Yes.” Seven arched her back, crying out her word.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Janeway said and pushed her hand harder, deeper against Seven’s lips, working the heel of her palm and arcing two fingers inside. She curved the muscles in until her wrist ached and Seven writhed, eyes screwed shut and giving guttural, bestial grunts of pleasure. Pushing against the pain, she moved her fingers faster until Seven ached her back once again and came around Janeway’s hand.

“I believe,” she said, tired blue eyes giving into a smile, “I know what I must do from now on, Captain.”

Janeway rested her aching wrist against the warmth of Seven’s stomach, her hot, human blood still close to the surface. “Oh, and what would that be?”

The Borg sat up on Janeway’s desk, curled her legs in and held them against her body. Beneath the delicate curls around her temples, sweat-slicked against her forehead, those eyes held an excitement already retreating. “I must teach you all you deserve.”

She knelt, reaching a hand up to brush Janeway’s hair behind her ear, a thumb across her lips, her cheek. The captain closed her eyes to Seven’s penetrating gaze, yielding to the glaze of the old perfection.

“No,” Seven said. “See me, as you always have.”

Though hardened in the sharp lines of her body, the Seven that Janeway braved to see was an offering made softer by half-light and her imploring touch. Willing to be weakened, the kiss she sat by Seven to give was fervent, hungered, returned in kind even as the alabaster cold reclaimed her.


End file.
